At the end of the movie Hoosiers, when the small farm-town Indiana high school team beats the big city school for the 1952 state championship, a chill runs up the back of my neck. It happens every time, and it feels wonderful. If you have never seen it, let me tell you why it’s so wonderful when the team from Hickory wins, and by the way, I don’t think it spoils the movie for you to know the ending. What makes the end so great is that by this point in the movie, you have come to care about this small town. You know how the coach was given a second chance after a career ruined by some awful choices. You know how the star player has overcome great losses in his life. You know the townspeople who have had their fights with each other and with the coach, but who are there at the big game together and cheering for all they’ve got.
And you know about one player’s father who can’t be there because he has finally checked himself into a hospital to treat his alcoholism, but who listens to the game on his little radio.
Frankly, the ending isn’t so moving unless you know all their stories. It’s much more than a basketball championship. It’s the celebration for a town full of broken people who thought they had no hope. When the game ends and the music swells, I feel like I’ve had a spiritual experience. And in a way, I have.
There are so many hints of the spirit of God in our lives. There’s a hint of the spirit in the feeling we get in a crowd cheering for our team. There’s a hint in the feeling we get at a concert (an orchestra or a rock band, depending on your preference) when the music envelopes us and makes us feel like we are a part of something bigger. There’s a hint of God’s spirit in a well told story, be it in a movie, novel, television show, or anything that reminds us that love is a powerful force in the world, and that we are connected to causes bigger than ourselves.
I think that all of these experiences should be celebrated, and they should tell us that there is something true about these wonderful, spiritual feelings. We are truly a part of something bigger than ourselves, and ultimately it is not a game, concert, or story. It is God. And just like the end of Hoosiers, God’s church is a celebration for broken people who thought they had no hope.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Sermon - What was he thinking?
Preached on June 29 2008 at First Congregational Church of Tallmadge, Ohio, UCC
Genesis 22:1-18 Matthew 10:37-42
Dedicated to the members of the 2008 mission tour; and always to the glory of God.
Abraham’s near sacrifice of his son Isaac is a difficult story. We come to the Bible trusting that it contains a word for us about our God and God’s relationship to us, but we often come away from this story disturbed because we don’t understand what that message can possibly be. Or perhaps we are disturbed because we are worried that we do understand the message of the story and we want nothing to do with it because it seems totally at odds with the message of Jesus Christ, which is the lens by which we view all scripture.
This story has two main points that disturb us. The first is that God tells Abraham to take his son, his and Sarah’s only son, whom he loves, Isaac, up to a mountaintop and sacrifice him as a burnt offering. How could God demand such a violent and senseless act? This is not the God we see in Jesus Christ, who came to give life. The second disturbing point is that Abraham agrees to do it.
What was he thinking? How can he possibly obey this command to kill his son? After World War II we heard the Nazis talk about how they were just following orders and we did not accept that excuse. In the movie A Few Good Men, we contemplated the same idea in our own military in the story of two Marines who were ordered to give their fellow Marine a code red, a kind of hazing punishment. Weren’t they able to recognize an immoral order and refuse to obey? Are we supposed to do something that is wrong and harmful just because we are told to do it by a commanding officer? And now in our country we are wrestling with the question of soldiers who were told to treat prisoners cruelly in order to soften them up for interrogation.
But what if God is the one who orders violence? The religious community has some history of this idea: burning heretics, the Salem witch trials, gunning down doctors, and calling for war against Muslims in the crusades, or in modern times painting Islam broadly as a religion of violence and hate. These people tragically thought that they were doing the will of God, and we needed more people to question their claims. So don’t we need a better model than Abraham, who doesn’t even question God’s order to kill his son? This story has some real problems!
How could any parent agree to give up the life of a child, and how could anyone let God get away with making such a mean demand? When Abraham set out for the mountain with his son Isaac, we must ask what was he thinking?
James Kugel, a scholar of the Hebrew scriptures, reminds us to be aware of the context in which this story was first told.[1] In the ancient middle east, offering your child as a sacrifice to your god was well accepted among nations in t region. More than an animal sacrifice, the gift of a child was the ultimate sign of your devotion. In the book of 2nd Kings, we read of the Moabite king who sacrifices his child to their god Molech to restore his people to the god’s good favor (2 Kings 3:26-27). Here’s the point: the Hebrews who first heard this story would not have found it very unusual or shocking that Abraham planned to sacrifice his son as a sign of great faithfulness to their God Yahweh. Instead, the extraordinary aspect of this story is that Yahweh, unlike other gods, stops the sacrifice. This story may have been the one that was told when Hebrew children asked why their religion was different from the neighboring nations. “Why are we the only ones who do not sacrifice children?” they may have asked. And the answer would come: “let me tell you about Abraham, the father of our people.
Do you see the difference it makes to read the story in that context? We read it and think that God might ask for a person’s death. They told it to make the opposite point, that our God does not desire anyone to be killed. Let’s keep that in mind, but to be honest, if that’s the only good we can find here, then this story has outlived its use. No one ever asks why God doesn’t ask for child sacrifice, and the very idea of it in our scriptures is troubling. So why do people continue to claim this story as holy?
The Jewish tradition is filled with rabbis who have found this story disturbing and tried to make sense of if for their lives. In one line of interpretation, they figured that Isaac must have been in on the plan and been willing to give himself as a sacrifice to God. In this reading, Abraham is not the monster who almost kills his frightened boy, but the father who sadly shares this mournful journey with his faithful son. If this still seems strange and abhorrent, then think of Jesus willingly walking to the cross, followed by his mother Mary in tears. Perhaps Abraham and Isaac trusted that God’s plan might be bigger than death.
In a way, the willingness of Abraham and Isaac to sacrifice so greatly might stand as a challenge to us. How much are we willing to sacrifice in order to give our lives to God? I confess that I often hide from this question. I hide because there are many things that I do not want to give up. But at the same time many of the things I do give my time and energy to are not worth the sacrifice. We could name the obvious idols to whom we give our time and our efforts: anger, fear, addiction, ambition. We sacrifice much to these things, and although they are easy to name they are difficult to overcome. But even beyond those debilitating gods, we often sacrifice our lives to the trivial. We are always giving our time and attention to something, and if I could ever add up all my time and money and attention that I give to things that don’t really mean very much, I would be appalled. At certain times, we all sacrifice our lives, only to find that we have sacrificed them for not much at all.
The story of Abraham and Isaac might remind us that only when we give our lives to God are we giving ourselves to something that is really worth everything we have.
Now, let me give you a different take on our story. Pay attention to verse five. At the foot of the mountain, Abraham turns to the servants who have accompanied them on the journey and says “Stay here with the donkey while I and the boy go over there. We will worship and then we will come back to you.” Listen again: “We will worship and then we will come back to you.” Why does he say that both he and Isaac will come back if Isaac is going to die on the mountain? You might say that he is being deceptive, but I don’t think that fits his character or the way this story is told. I think that perhaps Abraham trusts that God will not allow the death of Isaac, who is, after all, the son that God promised to Abraham and Sarah in their old age. Abraham trusts God enough to follow the command to go and sacrifice his son, but also trusts in God to bring about a good conclusion in a way that he cannot yet see.
Down in Kentucky last week, there was little banner in the church at Henderson Settlement with these words “the sign that you are following God is that you will be led where you did not plan to go.” We are used to making our own plans, but this story of Abraham reminds us that sometimes we might follow the calling of God into a journey we did not plan, to which we don’t know the conclusion. What a freeing idea it is that we don’t have to know how God’s calling in our lives will work out in the end before we begin. Just get started. I don’t mean that we shouldn’t do the responsible work of planning and working toward a vision – we’ve got lots of people in this church who do that planning very well. What I mean is that we shouldn’t be paralyzed by waiting until we are certain that every outcome is accounted for and everything is safe.
The rabbis tell a story, called a midrash, about the crossing of the Red Sea. It’s a story that is not in the Bible, but offers insight on the Biblical story. You probably remember how the Hebrews reached the edge of the red sea and Moses lifted his rod to make the waters part. But in this midrash, Moses lifts his rod and nothing happens. And so, with the Egyptian army on its way, a Hebrew man named Naschon begins to walk into the sea. He wades in up to his ankles, then his knees, waist, and chest. Just before the water reaches his nostrils, the red sea parts. The point is that sometimes miracles only happen after we jump in.[2] To trust God is to commit yourself even when you don’t know exactly how things will turn out.
I hope that this story of Abraham and Isaac is working now on different levels. The story of Abraham and Isaac challenges us to give all that we have to God, and to carefully examine where we have sacrificed parts of our lives to things that don’t deserve it. This story also gives us confidence to answer God’s call and take action even when we don’t know how God is going to be at work. This is a story that tells us that the God who asks everything of us is also one who loves us and values our lives so deeply that God is the chief mourner over every child of this earth whose life is ever lost.
We are held close by God, and God calls us to give all that we are so that we can be who God created us to be.
[1] Kugel, James L. How To Read The Bible: A guide to scripture, then and now. 2007. I am grateful to this book for much of the background in this sermon.
[2] Jacobs, A.J. The Year of Living Biblically, page 13
Genesis 22:1-18 Matthew 10:37-42
Dedicated to the members of the 2008 mission tour; and always to the glory of God.
Abraham’s near sacrifice of his son Isaac is a difficult story. We come to the Bible trusting that it contains a word for us about our God and God’s relationship to us, but we often come away from this story disturbed because we don’t understand what that message can possibly be. Or perhaps we are disturbed because we are worried that we do understand the message of the story and we want nothing to do with it because it seems totally at odds with the message of Jesus Christ, which is the lens by which we view all scripture.
This story has two main points that disturb us. The first is that God tells Abraham to take his son, his and Sarah’s only son, whom he loves, Isaac, up to a mountaintop and sacrifice him as a burnt offering. How could God demand such a violent and senseless act? This is not the God we see in Jesus Christ, who came to give life. The second disturbing point is that Abraham agrees to do it.
What was he thinking? How can he possibly obey this command to kill his son? After World War II we heard the Nazis talk about how they were just following orders and we did not accept that excuse. In the movie A Few Good Men, we contemplated the same idea in our own military in the story of two Marines who were ordered to give their fellow Marine a code red, a kind of hazing punishment. Weren’t they able to recognize an immoral order and refuse to obey? Are we supposed to do something that is wrong and harmful just because we are told to do it by a commanding officer? And now in our country we are wrestling with the question of soldiers who were told to treat prisoners cruelly in order to soften them up for interrogation.
But what if God is the one who orders violence? The religious community has some history of this idea: burning heretics, the Salem witch trials, gunning down doctors, and calling for war against Muslims in the crusades, or in modern times painting Islam broadly as a religion of violence and hate. These people tragically thought that they were doing the will of God, and we needed more people to question their claims. So don’t we need a better model than Abraham, who doesn’t even question God’s order to kill his son? This story has some real problems!
How could any parent agree to give up the life of a child, and how could anyone let God get away with making such a mean demand? When Abraham set out for the mountain with his son Isaac, we must ask what was he thinking?
James Kugel, a scholar of the Hebrew scriptures, reminds us to be aware of the context in which this story was first told.[1] In the ancient middle east, offering your child as a sacrifice to your god was well accepted among nations in t region. More than an animal sacrifice, the gift of a child was the ultimate sign of your devotion. In the book of 2nd Kings, we read of the Moabite king who sacrifices his child to their god Molech to restore his people to the god’s good favor (2 Kings 3:26-27). Here’s the point: the Hebrews who first heard this story would not have found it very unusual or shocking that Abraham planned to sacrifice his son as a sign of great faithfulness to their God Yahweh. Instead, the extraordinary aspect of this story is that Yahweh, unlike other gods, stops the sacrifice. This story may have been the one that was told when Hebrew children asked why their religion was different from the neighboring nations. “Why are we the only ones who do not sacrifice children?” they may have asked. And the answer would come: “let me tell you about Abraham, the father of our people.
Do you see the difference it makes to read the story in that context? We read it and think that God might ask for a person’s death. They told it to make the opposite point, that our God does not desire anyone to be killed. Let’s keep that in mind, but to be honest, if that’s the only good we can find here, then this story has outlived its use. No one ever asks why God doesn’t ask for child sacrifice, and the very idea of it in our scriptures is troubling. So why do people continue to claim this story as holy?
The Jewish tradition is filled with rabbis who have found this story disturbing and tried to make sense of if for their lives. In one line of interpretation, they figured that Isaac must have been in on the plan and been willing to give himself as a sacrifice to God. In this reading, Abraham is not the monster who almost kills his frightened boy, but the father who sadly shares this mournful journey with his faithful son. If this still seems strange and abhorrent, then think of Jesus willingly walking to the cross, followed by his mother Mary in tears. Perhaps Abraham and Isaac trusted that God’s plan might be bigger than death.
In a way, the willingness of Abraham and Isaac to sacrifice so greatly might stand as a challenge to us. How much are we willing to sacrifice in order to give our lives to God? I confess that I often hide from this question. I hide because there are many things that I do not want to give up. But at the same time many of the things I do give my time and energy to are not worth the sacrifice. We could name the obvious idols to whom we give our time and our efforts: anger, fear, addiction, ambition. We sacrifice much to these things, and although they are easy to name they are difficult to overcome. But even beyond those debilitating gods, we often sacrifice our lives to the trivial. We are always giving our time and attention to something, and if I could ever add up all my time and money and attention that I give to things that don’t really mean very much, I would be appalled. At certain times, we all sacrifice our lives, only to find that we have sacrificed them for not much at all.
The story of Abraham and Isaac might remind us that only when we give our lives to God are we giving ourselves to something that is really worth everything we have.
Now, let me give you a different take on our story. Pay attention to verse five. At the foot of the mountain, Abraham turns to the servants who have accompanied them on the journey and says “Stay here with the donkey while I and the boy go over there. We will worship and then we will come back to you.” Listen again: “We will worship and then we will come back to you.” Why does he say that both he and Isaac will come back if Isaac is going to die on the mountain? You might say that he is being deceptive, but I don’t think that fits his character or the way this story is told. I think that perhaps Abraham trusts that God will not allow the death of Isaac, who is, after all, the son that God promised to Abraham and Sarah in their old age. Abraham trusts God enough to follow the command to go and sacrifice his son, but also trusts in God to bring about a good conclusion in a way that he cannot yet see.
Down in Kentucky last week, there was little banner in the church at Henderson Settlement with these words “the sign that you are following God is that you will be led where you did not plan to go.” We are used to making our own plans, but this story of Abraham reminds us that sometimes we might follow the calling of God into a journey we did not plan, to which we don’t know the conclusion. What a freeing idea it is that we don’t have to know how God’s calling in our lives will work out in the end before we begin. Just get started. I don’t mean that we shouldn’t do the responsible work of planning and working toward a vision – we’ve got lots of people in this church who do that planning very well. What I mean is that we shouldn’t be paralyzed by waiting until we are certain that every outcome is accounted for and everything is safe.
The rabbis tell a story, called a midrash, about the crossing of the Red Sea. It’s a story that is not in the Bible, but offers insight on the Biblical story. You probably remember how the Hebrews reached the edge of the red sea and Moses lifted his rod to make the waters part. But in this midrash, Moses lifts his rod and nothing happens. And so, with the Egyptian army on its way, a Hebrew man named Naschon begins to walk into the sea. He wades in up to his ankles, then his knees, waist, and chest. Just before the water reaches his nostrils, the red sea parts. The point is that sometimes miracles only happen after we jump in.[2] To trust God is to commit yourself even when you don’t know exactly how things will turn out.
I hope that this story of Abraham and Isaac is working now on different levels. The story of Abraham and Isaac challenges us to give all that we have to God, and to carefully examine where we have sacrificed parts of our lives to things that don’t deserve it. This story also gives us confidence to answer God’s call and take action even when we don’t know how God is going to be at work. This is a story that tells us that the God who asks everything of us is also one who loves us and values our lives so deeply that God is the chief mourner over every child of this earth whose life is ever lost.
We are held close by God, and God calls us to give all that we are so that we can be who God created us to be.
[1] Kugel, James L. How To Read The Bible: A guide to scripture, then and now. 2007. I am grateful to this book for much of the background in this sermon.
[2] Jacobs, A.J. The Year of Living Biblically, page 13
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Sermon - When the Waters Roar
Preached June 1, 2008 at First Congregational Church of Tallmadge, UCC
Psalm 46 Matthew 7:21-29
Dedicated to this year’s high school graduates of our church family; and always to the glory of God.
Jesus once said that “the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls; on finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it.
In other words, if you give everything you have and everything that you are toward a life in God, it’s worth it. I suppose this could sound like bad news. “Everything I have? That’s too much.”
But I think it’s good news, because even though nothing is as valuable in a life in God, even so, we can all afford it! All you have to give is all you have for this pearl of great price.
And what do we get with this offer? Well, I can tell you what we don’t get. We do not get a life of ease and comfort. Religion is not a free pass to save us from injury and illness, the hardship of danger or loss, or any other storm that life can bring to us.
Life with God is so valuable that it is worth everything you have. I just can’t tell you that it will protect you from the storms in life.
But here’s the thing: nothing will. The storms hit us no matter what we do.
Jesus said, at the end of the sermon on the mount, at the conclusion of his teaching on how to live, that if you put his words into practice (that is, if you give all you have for God) you are like the wise person who built a house on rock instead of sand. But the storm comes anyway. The storm came for Jesus; it came for his disciples; it came for the early church under persecution, and for the missionaries in South America who stood up for the oppressed natives, for the pilgrims who crossed the ocean to worship with integrity, for the those who stood firm for equality and were beaten back with hoses, dogs, and fists.
Doesn’t it seem as if a life in God actually gets us into trouble, rather than saving us from it? Jesus doesn’t promise that the storm won’t come, but he does tell us that we have a choice about where and how to build our lives.
So what is it about building a life in God that is so valuable?
The psalm that we heard said “Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging.”
When the waters roar, we will not fear.
Let me show you what I think that looks like. Rabbi Abraham Heschel was born in Warsaw, Poland and studied at Berlin, Germany in the early part of last century, the descendent of generations of rabbis before him. He fled from the Nazis and arrived in the United States in 1940, although many in his immediate family were killed in the war and the holocaust. In the 1960’s, he was a leader for civil rights. He marched beside Martin Luther King Jr. in Selma, because he saw in the scriptures a clear call for justice and equality for God’s people. Rabbi Heschel once wrote “I did not ask for success, I asked for wonder.”
At the end of his life, after suffering a heart attack that almost killed him, he said “when I regained consciousness, my first feelings were not of despair or anger. I felt only gratitude to God for my life, for every moment I had lived. I was ready to depart. ‘Take me, O Lord,’ I thought, ‘I have seen so many miracles in my lifetime.’” Exhausted by the effort, he paused for a moment, then added, “That is what I meant when I wrote, ‘I did not ask for success; I asked for wonder. And [God] gave it to me.’”
We want to be successful. We want our graduates to be successful in what they do, and that’s a good thing. Let us hope for their success, not as an end but only as a means toward giving yourself to a life in God. Let us not strive for success; let us strive for God. Success, in itself, is not a guarantee of safety, happiness, or health. Rabbi Heschel knew that the storms of life will bring pain and loss, but he also knew that the world is full of the wonder of God.
Albert Schweitzer was a successful man who realized that success wasn’t enough. At the turn of last century he was an internationally renowned organist and teacher of theology. His 1906 book, The Quest for the Historical Jesus, is still a landmark in New Testament studies. He was doing very well. But the words of Jesus in the sermon on the mount stuck with him, and he decided that the best way for him to live that out was to go live among the poorest of the poor in equatorial Africa, not as a doctor of theology to preach to them, but as a medical doctor to care for them. And so this accomplished scholar and organist went to medical school for seven years, and then founded a hospital in Africa where he spent most of the rest of his life easing the suffering of our poor brothers and sisters.
Listen to his words: “The only ones among you who will be really happy are those who will have sought and found how to serve.”
Does this make any sense? Usually we hope for success, which will make us safe, secure, and happy. But it turns out that all our success is not as valuable as the life that Jesus calls us to live. Just like the pearl merchant who sold everything for the great pearl, a life in God is worth everything. Living the way of Christ is worth more than success, wealth, or fame.
Phillip Yancey tells about his time interviewing two groups of people. The first are the rich and famous, and he found them to be a hopeless lot: depressed and insecure, propped up by power and medication. Then he interviewed people who’s lives are given to the work of service. He wrote that while he was prepared to admire them, he was not prepared to envy them. They were content, happy, at home in the world.
Do you know people like that? People who give themselves to the world in love and service, and even when they suffer pain and loss they seem to have that calm of the faithful? We will not fear when the waters roar.
In two weeks some of us will be on our way to Henderson Settlement in Frakes, Kentucky, deep in the Appalachian mountains of beauty and hardship. Many of you have gone before, or you have gone to other places to live out the way of Christ. Here’s the thing that’s strange about this trip. It’s not a vacation. There’s no resort, no sleeping in, and no relaxing days by the water. We’re going to do difficult work.
So why is it that every year, people go on a mission tour and talk about what a great week it is? Why do people give up their time, give up money they could be earning at work, and pay their way, give their energy and strength to work on homes for strangers whom we will never see again?
I guess it’s because life can’t be just about ourselves, our own success, our own security. Life can’t be just about guarding against the storms that are going to come anyway.
Life is about wonder. Life is about love for neighbors, even strangers and enemies. The waters are going to roar, but where are you going to build your life?
I hope for all of us, that we build it on the way of Christ. Do not ask for success. Ask for wonder. Ask to be more aware of the great gift of this world, of God’s unconditional love for the unloveable, and of God’s power to make us more than we thought we could be. Ask for these things. God will give it to you.
Psalm 46 Matthew 7:21-29
Dedicated to this year’s high school graduates of our church family; and always to the glory of God.
Jesus once said that “the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls; on finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it.
In other words, if you give everything you have and everything that you are toward a life in God, it’s worth it. I suppose this could sound like bad news. “Everything I have? That’s too much.”
But I think it’s good news, because even though nothing is as valuable in a life in God, even so, we can all afford it! All you have to give is all you have for this pearl of great price.
And what do we get with this offer? Well, I can tell you what we don’t get. We do not get a life of ease and comfort. Religion is not a free pass to save us from injury and illness, the hardship of danger or loss, or any other storm that life can bring to us.
Life with God is so valuable that it is worth everything you have. I just can’t tell you that it will protect you from the storms in life.
But here’s the thing: nothing will. The storms hit us no matter what we do.
Jesus said, at the end of the sermon on the mount, at the conclusion of his teaching on how to live, that if you put his words into practice (that is, if you give all you have for God) you are like the wise person who built a house on rock instead of sand. But the storm comes anyway. The storm came for Jesus; it came for his disciples; it came for the early church under persecution, and for the missionaries in South America who stood up for the oppressed natives, for the pilgrims who crossed the ocean to worship with integrity, for the those who stood firm for equality and were beaten back with hoses, dogs, and fists.
Doesn’t it seem as if a life in God actually gets us into trouble, rather than saving us from it? Jesus doesn’t promise that the storm won’t come, but he does tell us that we have a choice about where and how to build our lives.
So what is it about building a life in God that is so valuable?
The psalm that we heard said “Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging.”
When the waters roar, we will not fear.
Let me show you what I think that looks like. Rabbi Abraham Heschel was born in Warsaw, Poland and studied at Berlin, Germany in the early part of last century, the descendent of generations of rabbis before him. He fled from the Nazis and arrived in the United States in 1940, although many in his immediate family were killed in the war and the holocaust. In the 1960’s, he was a leader for civil rights. He marched beside Martin Luther King Jr. in Selma, because he saw in the scriptures a clear call for justice and equality for God’s people. Rabbi Heschel once wrote “I did not ask for success, I asked for wonder.”
At the end of his life, after suffering a heart attack that almost killed him, he said “when I regained consciousness, my first feelings were not of despair or anger. I felt only gratitude to God for my life, for every moment I had lived. I was ready to depart. ‘Take me, O Lord,’ I thought, ‘I have seen so many miracles in my lifetime.’” Exhausted by the effort, he paused for a moment, then added, “That is what I meant when I wrote, ‘I did not ask for success; I asked for wonder. And [God] gave it to me.’”
We want to be successful. We want our graduates to be successful in what they do, and that’s a good thing. Let us hope for their success, not as an end but only as a means toward giving yourself to a life in God. Let us not strive for success; let us strive for God. Success, in itself, is not a guarantee of safety, happiness, or health. Rabbi Heschel knew that the storms of life will bring pain and loss, but he also knew that the world is full of the wonder of God.
Albert Schweitzer was a successful man who realized that success wasn’t enough. At the turn of last century he was an internationally renowned organist and teacher of theology. His 1906 book, The Quest for the Historical Jesus, is still a landmark in New Testament studies. He was doing very well. But the words of Jesus in the sermon on the mount stuck with him, and he decided that the best way for him to live that out was to go live among the poorest of the poor in equatorial Africa, not as a doctor of theology to preach to them, but as a medical doctor to care for them. And so this accomplished scholar and organist went to medical school for seven years, and then founded a hospital in Africa where he spent most of the rest of his life easing the suffering of our poor brothers and sisters.
Listen to his words: “The only ones among you who will be really happy are those who will have sought and found how to serve.”
Does this make any sense? Usually we hope for success, which will make us safe, secure, and happy. But it turns out that all our success is not as valuable as the life that Jesus calls us to live. Just like the pearl merchant who sold everything for the great pearl, a life in God is worth everything. Living the way of Christ is worth more than success, wealth, or fame.
Phillip Yancey tells about his time interviewing two groups of people. The first are the rich and famous, and he found them to be a hopeless lot: depressed and insecure, propped up by power and medication. Then he interviewed people who’s lives are given to the work of service. He wrote that while he was prepared to admire them, he was not prepared to envy them. They were content, happy, at home in the world.
Do you know people like that? People who give themselves to the world in love and service, and even when they suffer pain and loss they seem to have that calm of the faithful? We will not fear when the waters roar.
In two weeks some of us will be on our way to Henderson Settlement in Frakes, Kentucky, deep in the Appalachian mountains of beauty and hardship. Many of you have gone before, or you have gone to other places to live out the way of Christ. Here’s the thing that’s strange about this trip. It’s not a vacation. There’s no resort, no sleeping in, and no relaxing days by the water. We’re going to do difficult work.
So why is it that every year, people go on a mission tour and talk about what a great week it is? Why do people give up their time, give up money they could be earning at work, and pay their way, give their energy and strength to work on homes for strangers whom we will never see again?
I guess it’s because life can’t be just about ourselves, our own success, our own security. Life can’t be just about guarding against the storms that are going to come anyway.
Life is about wonder. Life is about love for neighbors, even strangers and enemies. The waters are going to roar, but where are you going to build your life?
I hope for all of us, that we build it on the way of Christ. Do not ask for success. Ask for wonder. Ask to be more aware of the great gift of this world, of God’s unconditional love for the unloveable, and of God’s power to make us more than we thought we could be. Ask for these things. God will give it to you.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Shaped by our Past, We Shape our Future
Originally preached on May 11, 2008, Pentecost Sunday, and the day on which the Confirmation Class became members of the church, at First Congregational Church of Tallmadge, UCC.
Acts 2:2-21
Dedicated to the twenty-three students of the Confirmation II Class; and always to the glory of God.
In the gospels of the New Testament, we hear the story of God’s good news revealed through Jesus Christ, the son of God. In the book of Acts, we still hear the story of God’s good news, but now it is revealed through the church. Pentecost is a story that reminds us that the church is created by God’s Holy Spirit, and held together by God’s Holy Spirit. The book of Acts says that when the Holy Spirit came among them, it was like a rushing wind, like flames of fire that landed above each person. In other words, it was difficult to explain; it was energizing, illuminating, and unpredictable.
I’m interested in what happened right after God’s spirit swept into their lives. The very first thing that happens is that a whole list of people from nations, tribes and ethnicities that we can’t fully pronounce all began to hear the good news of Jesus Christ in their own languages. Now, don’t get caught up trying to work out how that happened or you’ll miss the point! When God’s spirit moves in our lives, it doesn’t matter what barriers of history, culture, war, or language have divided us. We will all hear the good news in a way we can understand. We will be united. We will be the church.
Today, these students of the Confirmation class are joining this congregation as members. You are joining the church, and it doesn’t matter if you understand God with a different language shaped by your generation and your life’s experience. Just remember the story of God’s spirit on Pentecost. That’s our story. That’s us.
This year in Confirmation, we have been learning about the First Congregational Church of Tallmadge, the history of Congregationalism, and the character of our denomination, the United Church of Christ.
One evening in Boston, near the end of our year, we reflected on our experiences. We had been talking about what it was like to visit these historic places that they had learned about in school. It was in the congregational church that the sons of liberty met before the Boston tea party; it was in our church that they protested slavery, reached out to the Native Americans, and continued to stand up in God’s name for freedom and the equality for all people. One of them said that she was amazed to learn that those people from history class were our Congregationalist ancestors. She said “that’s us!” and in those words she summed up the entire year.
We who make up the First Congregational Church of Tallmadge have been shaped by our past, and this gives us strength and courage to shape our future.
We are shaped by those who worked and sacrificed for a church building to center our life of worship here in Tallmadge. Our first members donated lumber from their own trees, and they worked from 1821 until 1825, when surely their own new homes still needed much attention, to complete the church on the circle. Over the years the congregation had to make changes to keep the church open and inviting. They installed stoves, and later a furnace. They changed the box pews (with the walls to keep in heat) for open pews. They put up space in other buildings for offices, classes, and fellowship across the street. In the 1960’s, they (and many of you) constructed this building for the generations to follow. Now after four decades, we have broken ground for the first expansion to that building, so that we can continue to invite people to worship. That’s our story. That’s us.
In Boston we visited Harvard University, founded in 1636 – 1636! – by our Congregationalist ancestors. It was the first institution of higher learning in the colonies. Education has always been important in our tradition. It needs to be for a church in which the members make decisions. Our church members helped to found the college of the Western Reserve in 1826, and served on its faculty.
We continue to value education in this church. We celebrate and bless our high school graduates; we provide opportunities at church for all ages to learn about our faith. One of our confirmation students, writing about why she wants to join this church wrote, “I’ve learned that we’re never done learning, and there’s always going to be something new for God to teach us.” That is very true. In fact, when the Pilgrims came on the Mayflower, their minister John Robinson did not make the journey, but he told them “God hath yet more truth and light to break forth from his holy word.” Or, to put it in the words that we use in the United Church of Christ, “God is still speaking.” That’s our story. That’s us.
In 1833, not long after the College of the Western Reserve was founded, some of our church’s members on the faculty resigned in protest because they favored immediate emancipation of slaves, while a majority of trustees disagree, favoring instead the slaves’ eventual return to Africa.
The president of the college resigned with him, and later that year he came to the historic church on the circle to speak on the abolition of slavery. This is one of my favorite stories in our history. It seems that some local opposition to the abolitionist cause got to the church building and boarded up the doors and all the windows in order to prevent the speech. But the abolitionist movement had a great many supporters who went to work and quickly to remove the barricades. An eyewitness recalls “what a racket there was as the rails came flying out of the windows on top of each other and men shouting and some I fear were swearing.”
We are shaped by our past – by our ancestors who have stood up for anyone who was excluded from freedom and full participation in the life of faith. That’s our story. That’s us.
God founded the church on Pentecost by bringing people together, despite all their differences, and we hold to that promise. We in this church don’t all have the same experiences or points of view. We have different languages of thought and perspective. But God’s spirit binds us together. That’s the promise of Pentecost.
Another of our Confirmands had this to say about the class. She wrote about how we had fun together, made trips, and learned about God. Then she observed “In the beginning we all didn’t really know each other that well, ut in the end, we all became good friends.”
That is a gift from God. It is what happened on Pentecost, and it is what happens still. That’s our story. That’s us.
Acts 2:2-21
Dedicated to the twenty-three students of the Confirmation II Class; and always to the glory of God.
In the gospels of the New Testament, we hear the story of God’s good news revealed through Jesus Christ, the son of God. In the book of Acts, we still hear the story of God’s good news, but now it is revealed through the church. Pentecost is a story that reminds us that the church is created by God’s Holy Spirit, and held together by God’s Holy Spirit. The book of Acts says that when the Holy Spirit came among them, it was like a rushing wind, like flames of fire that landed above each person. In other words, it was difficult to explain; it was energizing, illuminating, and unpredictable.
I’m interested in what happened right after God’s spirit swept into their lives. The very first thing that happens is that a whole list of people from nations, tribes and ethnicities that we can’t fully pronounce all began to hear the good news of Jesus Christ in their own languages. Now, don’t get caught up trying to work out how that happened or you’ll miss the point! When God’s spirit moves in our lives, it doesn’t matter what barriers of history, culture, war, or language have divided us. We will all hear the good news in a way we can understand. We will be united. We will be the church.
Today, these students of the Confirmation class are joining this congregation as members. You are joining the church, and it doesn’t matter if you understand God with a different language shaped by your generation and your life’s experience. Just remember the story of God’s spirit on Pentecost. That’s our story. That’s us.
This year in Confirmation, we have been learning about the First Congregational Church of Tallmadge, the history of Congregationalism, and the character of our denomination, the United Church of Christ.
One evening in Boston, near the end of our year, we reflected on our experiences. We had been talking about what it was like to visit these historic places that they had learned about in school. It was in the congregational church that the sons of liberty met before the Boston tea party; it was in our church that they protested slavery, reached out to the Native Americans, and continued to stand up in God’s name for freedom and the equality for all people. One of them said that she was amazed to learn that those people from history class were our Congregationalist ancestors. She said “that’s us!” and in those words she summed up the entire year.
We who make up the First Congregational Church of Tallmadge have been shaped by our past, and this gives us strength and courage to shape our future.
We are shaped by those who worked and sacrificed for a church building to center our life of worship here in Tallmadge. Our first members donated lumber from their own trees, and they worked from 1821 until 1825, when surely their own new homes still needed much attention, to complete the church on the circle. Over the years the congregation had to make changes to keep the church open and inviting. They installed stoves, and later a furnace. They changed the box pews (with the walls to keep in heat) for open pews. They put up space in other buildings for offices, classes, and fellowship across the street. In the 1960’s, they (and many of you) constructed this building for the generations to follow. Now after four decades, we have broken ground for the first expansion to that building, so that we can continue to invite people to worship. That’s our story. That’s us.
In Boston we visited Harvard University, founded in 1636 – 1636! – by our Congregationalist ancestors. It was the first institution of higher learning in the colonies. Education has always been important in our tradition. It needs to be for a church in which the members make decisions. Our church members helped to found the college of the Western Reserve in 1826, and served on its faculty.
We continue to value education in this church. We celebrate and bless our high school graduates; we provide opportunities at church for all ages to learn about our faith. One of our confirmation students, writing about why she wants to join this church wrote, “I’ve learned that we’re never done learning, and there’s always going to be something new for God to teach us.” That is very true. In fact, when the Pilgrims came on the Mayflower, their minister John Robinson did not make the journey, but he told them “God hath yet more truth and light to break forth from his holy word.” Or, to put it in the words that we use in the United Church of Christ, “God is still speaking.” That’s our story. That’s us.
In 1833, not long after the College of the Western Reserve was founded, some of our church’s members on the faculty resigned in protest because they favored immediate emancipation of slaves, while a majority of trustees disagree, favoring instead the slaves’ eventual return to Africa.
The president of the college resigned with him, and later that year he came to the historic church on the circle to speak on the abolition of slavery. This is one of my favorite stories in our history. It seems that some local opposition to the abolitionist cause got to the church building and boarded up the doors and all the windows in order to prevent the speech. But the abolitionist movement had a great many supporters who went to work and quickly to remove the barricades. An eyewitness recalls “what a racket there was as the rails came flying out of the windows on top of each other and men shouting and some I fear were swearing.”
We are shaped by our past – by our ancestors who have stood up for anyone who was excluded from freedom and full participation in the life of faith. That’s our story. That’s us.
God founded the church on Pentecost by bringing people together, despite all their differences, and we hold to that promise. We in this church don’t all have the same experiences or points of view. We have different languages of thought and perspective. But God’s spirit binds us together. That’s the promise of Pentecost.
Another of our Confirmands had this to say about the class. She wrote about how we had fun together, made trips, and learned about God. Then she observed “In the beginning we all didn’t really know each other that well, ut in the end, we all became good friends.”
That is a gift from God. It is what happened on Pentecost, and it is what happens still. That’s our story. That’s us.
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